The 73rd Hunger Games
by daughter of Athena and Apollo
Summary: I was trained for this.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thanks for clicking on this story, and I know it may sound like Katniss/Katniss mom relationship with Rae and her mom but it isn't. **

**This is not an AU, but in the sequel it will become an AU.**

**This is going to be an epic story, and I feel regretful it's a ff because I couldn't even consider the possibility of publishing it. I know my writing isn't worthy of publishing, but it is always nice to have that option.**

**Read on kiddies.**

Chapter 1

My sword's steel tip went slicing through the air, making the whistling sound that only came from years of practice, right to my opponent's neck. The 18 year old girl looked at me, her murky green eyes filled with hate, as the tutor announced to that class that I was to be the one to volunteer, unless of course my name was called. If that were to happen, my opponent who just got second in our class would get a chance to volunteer. That would never happen though, I had no tesserae, no one from District Four needed it, and I was only fourteen. The name Rea Jordn was only entered three times.

I hopped down from the stage, leaving my opponent still seething at the humiliation of being beaten by a 14-year-old. My friends found me, and we walked out of the crowded building. The whole school had been in the girls' gym, hoping to see who would represent our district. Of course, the capital says it is illegal to train beforehand, but we all agree the capital is in no place to judge what is moral. The training goes year round with a short break for the Hunger Games, and whoever comes out on top just before the games gets to volunteer. No one except the one chosen tries volunteering because if they did they would become a laughing-stock of the district, especially if they died.

"I still don't see why you want to volunteer in the first place; your chances of winning are so small," Jackie, the quiet one in our group of three friends, said as we got outside, pushing her glasses up her nose, the wind blowing her shoulder length hair into her face. I could smell sea on the dutiful breeze as we walked to our respectful houses. My friends were walking home with me because school got out early for the reaping.

"Don't you want the person with the most experience going to the games? That girl back there was alright, but I tricked her a lot. Would it be the right thing to do if we sent her, knowing she had a major flaw?" I argued with my worried friend.

Jackie replied, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk, "But the Hunger Games are so scary and horrible. I can't believe you'd be going in them by choice."

Trying to get Jackie to see my logic, I explained, "They're not that bad, and if someone has to go, shouldn't it be the one with the most skill?"

Cecily, who had been looking at me with her amber eyes open in shock, said indignantly, "The games are a crime against humanity, and if you try to volunteer I swear I will clamp my hand over your mouth." Jackie nodded in agreement.

I sighed, "If you do that the entire district would be mad at you, not to mention I'd be mad at you too. If I win this I might have enough money to get my mom to the psychiatric ward they have in the Capitol."

Jackie and Cecily softened, but Jackie still protested earnestly, "We just don't want you to go. We've been friends since pre-training school. You couldn't even hold a knife back then, remember? Please don't go." We had been friends for a long time. We are all 14 now, and pre-training school started when we 6, so we had known each other for a while. I know both of them like the back of my hand. Jackie is the quiet, clumsy, intelligent one. However, once you get to know her she's very nice and humble, and you can't help but love her. She has a round face, blonde hair, pale-blue eyes, and is really short and skinny, though she hates sports. Cecily is the loud one; she loves being the center of attention. She's very competitive, but at the same time she is fiercely loyal. I'm pretty sure she was the one who knew our friendship would work out, and if it didn't she would've forced it to. She has an ovular face, black hair, and amber eyes that look like the honey they sell at the market. She's my height, though she claims to be taller.

"J, C, you both know that I can take care of myself. Remember, you're looking at the girl who got top marks on everything, but interviews. I'm fine."

Cecily retorted, "So is that what you want me to put on your funeral marking; 'Here lies Rae Jordan, the girl who was fine… Right up until that arrow pierced her chest.'?"

Jackie looked horrified, as if realizing that was a very real possibility. I reassured my friends, "Look, I'll come back alive. Please just drop the subject." My friends' shoulders sagged and they looked heart-broken, as if I was already dead. I added, hating having to see my friends like that, "Just in case I don't make it home, remember you two are my best friends." Cecily shrugged her shoulders in defeat (a rare sight to see) and Jackie just looked scared, but both nodded. They still looked depressed, and I kept catching Jackie wipe tears away. We walked home, sea spray and awkward silence filling the air.

As I walked to my front door, my mom opened it and gestured inside hurriedly. I went in and she sat me in a chair in the kitchen. I looked into her blue eyes as she asked, "Did you win? Is my little girl turning into a champion? Oh, your father would be so proud." You should know that my mom is crazy, probably crazy enough to be locked up in a home. I managed to keep it on the down low, taking the dresses she made into the market and haggling with all the merchants.

I answered, "Yeah, I won. That girl didn't stand a chance."

"Oh, I knew you could beat her. I'll fix you lunch, and then we can make you look pretty for your trip to that capital. Oh, they'll tell stories about you, dear," she said pinching my cheek and ruffling my long brown hair. She went off into the kitchen, likely to not make food at all. Just burn some crisps. I decided to go to my room and draw.

After an hour of drawing I smelled salmon, surprisingly a rare delicacy here in District Four. I walked to the kitchen, preparing to open the door and thank whoever had brought it in congratulations for me. Instead I was welcomed by my mom, who ushered me into a chair and practically force-fed me the food on the dish in her hands. I took the spoon from her and asked, "You made this?"

"Why of course I did. I told you I would, did you not believe me?" She gave me a look I can only describe as demented.

"Oh no, I just am stunned by how great this tastes. It's heavenly, really," I said, afraid of what she might do.

"Well good. You know, I gave your father salmon right before he left. He never came back, but he sure tried." She said as a side note, as she washed the dishes.

Finishing my fish I asked, "Where did he go?" I had never been brave enough to ask before, but if I didn't return I wanted to satisfy my curiosity. See, I was raised mostly by my grandmother at her house until she died when I was 8. Then my mother, who received daily visits from my grandmother to be sure she was still alive, was given custody of me, and I had to move into her house. The move was crazy, and I spent a lot of time at my friends' houses until I got used to my fragile-minded mother.

I had asked my grandmother countless times where and who my dad was, but she always told me I was too young. When I was with my mom, I was too scared to ask anything for the first few years. Now I just keep my mouth shut around her, only speaking to her when she is in her more stable moods, and helping her when she became delirious. I wanted to win the hunger games because I had always had a natural talent for surviving, and if I won I could get the resources to help my mom.

"Oh, he went to the Hunger Games when he was 18; you were just about to be born. I could have sworn I told you that. He was the second to last one alive. I was forced to watch. They had developed a nasty mutt that year. Its skin was like fire, I believe, so when your dad and his friend tried to fight it off, their hands were burned, your dad's to stubs. Then your dad started crying, and the creature had his head in its jaws. Your dad's friend, Kor, was trying to get your dad safe, but it was too late. The creature used its razor sharp blades and his head came straight off." As she said this I could almost spot some sanity, but she blinked through her tears and was back to her old self.

Yeah, grandma was right. An 8 year old would have been way too impressionable for that… goriness. Even now, I feel scarred imagining it. I muttered, "Thank you for the salmon," not really sure how to continue the conversation.

"You're welcome, dear. Now it's time to get you pretty. We don't want those Capitol people thinking we're slobs, do we?" She said, gesturing into her room, as if she hadn't just relived my father's death. I put the plates in the overflowing sink, and followed my mother into her room for the first time (I have never been asked to go in, and frankly, I've never wanted to).

I was amazed at the condition. She had kept it clean! That was surprising, considering my mom hardly does any work, save the dress making. I do all the chores around the house because she doesn't, and I can't exactly force her to. The bed was made, on one side was a lamp with needles and thread surrounding it, and on the other side there was dust and a comb, a solitary, clean comb. It made my heart melt a little thinking that was all that was left of my dad. On the wall, parallel to the bed was a 32-inch T.V; I didn't even know we owned a T.V. My mom corralled me to a vanity table in the corner of the room on her side.

I was sat me on the plush, purple stool. My mom straightened the already perfectly straight items on the desk, and left me to study the table. It was blue ivory or something and it was cold and smooth. I looked into the giant mirror; it was outlined with a pretty blue border. I looked into the mirror and at my long brown hair that I never bothered to do anything with because I didn't care enough. My brown eyes didn't really stand out, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. While my mom's eyes were a shocking blue, the one picture I had of my dad revealed the source of my brown eyes. My skin was tan from sword-practices that mostly took place outside. I seemed to have a natural blush that a lot of girls had to cake on make-up to achieve but I can't really tell and I obviously can't ask my mom.

Speaking of my mom; she was walking around the room gathering bottles of gunk that I mentally hiss at if anyone gets anywhere near me with that stuff. When my mom plops everything down, I'm tempted to not let her near my eyes with anything, but the last time I refused my mom was when I was 10; I was just starting to get used to her. My mom had told me to turn the volume of the T.V. down when there wasn't even a T.V. on. I had told her of this and she had hidden all the food from me for disobeying me, and because it was a Sunday I had to go without food until the market opened on Monday. That was when I learned to always agree with my mother. Not wanting a repetition of that experience, I was prepared to suffer through the glittery, colorful, stiff torment.

After two hours of tortuous prep-time my mom finishes; I'm finally allowed to look into the mirror. She somehow morphed my hair into a beautiful pile on top of my hair, held up by a flower hair clip. My eyes stand out because of the mascara and eye shadow. I realized that this wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be and I hugged my mom for giving me this wonderful, albeit small, gift and she hugged back. Not the frail grip I was used to but a strong, comforting hug. She pulled back and said, "Now come, we have only 30 minutes to get you in the dress I made."

She handed me a fancy looking green and purple dress and told me to change. I did as instructed and walked out of the bathroom. She put her hand over her mouth and said, "Oh you're so pretty. The capital will have fun with you." The last comment tore my heart, but I was used to it so I quickly healed. I looked in the mirror one more time; this time looking at the dress. It was a deep emerald-green with purple embroidery in wave patterns. The fabric was silk and I wondered where my mom had gotten it from. The neck line was a circle, but it dipped down in the back. It had short sleeves that showed off my well-muscled arms from sword fighting.

My mom and I walked to the square. District Four was a large district and even though we were early, the square was already starting to fill up. Dropping me off, my mom made her way to the front of the viewing section while I signed in.

Finding my way to the 14-yer-old-girls section, I carefully avoided everyone. People were in a peculiarly nervous state of mind for some reason even though they knew the volunteers would save them. I tried looking for Jackie and Cecily but couldn't find them. I decided it didn't matter, considering they'd just come say good-bye to me in the viewing time. Tapping my foot I waited impatiently for the reaping to start. I noticed that the girls' dresses around me weren't nearly as well made, but that wouldn't because I was the one going to the capitol.

Finally the reaper, that's what I called him, came up to the stage. His hair was a bleached blonde; not entirely repulsive, but he his lips were bleached as well, as were his eyebrows. His eyes were a vanilla color, and his skin looked like one of those powdered donuts Cecily brings to school. He wore a white suit and he looked like a ghost. He talked a lot all about the Capitol, and then our mayor came up to read the Treaty of Treason. I zoned out through these and the clip. When the reaper reached into the bowl with the girls' names, I prayed he wouldn't pick my name, the opposite of what everyone else was doing.

He pulled it out and read off in a deep voice, "The girl tribute for District Four in the 73rd hunger games is Guleyda Frisk"

I stuck my hand up and recited, for I had practiced, "I volunteer."

The peacekeepers came and escorted me to the stage and the reaper asked me what my name was, "Rea Jordan." He asked me why I volunteered. This was my chance to plant the seed of my strategy. I could play the arrogant card, guaranteeing sponsors; or I could act shy, guaranteeing no target on my back; or I could play it cool and confident and _possibly_ get sponsors and allies. Cool and confident it was.

"I volunteered to win." Crap that sounded arrogant.

He chuckled at my response and said, "Well that's a good goal, but how are you going to accomplish it?"

I didn't have an answer for that, but instead of telling him that I decided that it was time to get the spotlight off me, fearing what else I might say in it. "Well for starters I'm going to go to the Capitol, once I thought that part would be easy, but now I see there are certain obstacles in my way." I am not good at this talking thing. The reaper sneered at me, a sight way more hilarious than intimidating due to his white lips.

Seeing that I wasn't going to give him anything else, he turned to the boys' bowl and pulled out a name. I paid attention to whoever my ally would be. "The boy tribute for District Four in the 73rd hunger games is Daden Adis" His volunteer was quick. He walked up calmly and I could obviously tell he was going for the arrogant card. Getting to his place on the stage I studied the boy, for he looked around my age, and marveled at whether or not his hair was real. It was a gold color and had layers, bangs fell into his eyes; quite a natural look actually. I hoped it wasn't real, just because no one could have perfect hair; it wouldn't be fair. At least his eyes weren't as pretty as his hair; they were just a pale blue framed by barely visible eyelashes. His face was kind of like mine; long and like an oval. He was taller than I am by around six inches, which made him average for a guy (I'm not tall at all). He was wearing a bluish-purple suit that fit him nicely, and revealed his lean build. When the reaper (I should probably know his name by now), asked for the volunteer's name, the volunteer said with a smile, "Tonex Lude" When the reaper asked why he volunteered, Tonex replied smoothly, "Like Rea said; to win"

**A/N: K, so please review if you liked it, those are always nice. Also, I have some questions for those of you who would be nice enough to help me edit this.**

**How was the sentence structure/grammar usage? What should I do to fix it?**

**Were the characters' interactions with one another believable? How do I make them better?**

**Do you like the general writing style? What, if anything, should I change to make this read easier?**

**Please, if you have any other advice, I am open to critism. Thanks, for reading. Chao :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I'm gonna try to update this story every month or so, K? **

**Sorry this chapter is mostly a filler. **

**I took into account all the reviews and really tried to fix the stuff you guyz mentioned. **

**Oh and I REALLY NEED A BETA! CALLING ALL BETAS WHO JUST HAPPENING TO POSSIBLY BE READING THIS! Pm if you might be considering it.**

**Oh and you may need to reread the first chapter.**

**And, if you've actually read this AN for this long, I am going to recommend a song before each chapter because I feel like it. The song Piano Man by Billy Joel is inspiring if you can appreciate it.**

Chapter 2

The reaper just smiled condescendingly (I do not like this person) and turned to the audience. "District 4, I am proud to present your 73rd Hunger Game's tributes!" There was clapping, whistling, and proud smiles throughout the entire crowd, hopefully because they thought we might win.

The peacekeepers led us off the stage and to the viewing rooms. I was dropped off at mine while Tonex was escorted to his. I sat on the plush, blue carpet. Piled with turquoise, deep blue and violet cushions, the couch held a pattern too elegant for me to disrupt. The whole room had a sort of under-the-sea color scheme, very original for District 4 (note the sarcasm).

Left to think about what I was doing, I started to get butterflies, worried that someone might actually kill me in the arena. I know that I should have been worried about this sooner, but to be honest, I thought I was the best. At everything.

Yeah, it is an arrogant point of view, but when I was eight and they taught us how to throw a knife I threw it at the target on my first try and made a bullseye. Not even at the knife target that was 10 feet away, no I was aiming for the archery target that was 25 yards away. The 8-year-old's instructor was mostly there to be sure we did not stab ourselves, so I shocked him so much that his mouth actually flopped opened and stayed open until he managed to sputter, "Y-you shouldn't be here."

I was immediately placed in the girl's advanced class and they figured out my weapon of choice. It was obvious from the start that I would be a swordsman. I was able to defeat girls twice my age and from the beginning everyone pressured me to go for the Volunteer Trials. Except grandma. She was proud of me, but she told me when I was 8 that if I went to the Volunteer Trials and won then I would have to volunteer for the Hunger Games. It did not help my grandma's cause when that year a tribute from District 4 won and came back to be spectacularly welcomed.

Maybe if my grandma had still been alive I would not have gone for the Trials, knowing it would upset her, but my mom encouraged them. She would always tell me that winning the Volunteer Trials was a big honor, but that the Hunger Games was the source of everlasting glory.

I chased the miniscule butterflies away and contented myself with the fact that I wanted to win the Hunger Games to make my mom proud. I would win and make my entire district proud.

My mom walked through the room, a blank look plastered on her face. She spoke, but more to herself than to me, "I remember coming here for something. What was it?" She continued to stand in the doorway, arms slightly extended to her sides, as if she would fly away if she could remember how to.

I recognized this. It was the calm before the storm, and if not handled carefully it could bring storms of rage and piercing sobs. I got up and steered her to the couch. I brushed some of the fancy pillows to the floor and sat her down. I asked, "Why do you think you came here?" This upset her greatly when she could not remember and if I recognized it early enough I could guide her through it.

"There was something about lucky suns. Rays I think." Her brows crinkled together as she concentrated.

"Maybe it was wishing the rays to be lucky?" I could not just tell her outright why she was here; that bothered her more than not being able to remember.

"I… you know what, I think that was it. Thank you. Who are you again?" She was confused. My mom was crazy in several ways, from OCDness, to not being able to remember stuff, to blinding anger, and to self-destruction.

"Rea. Your daughter." I spoke as if talking to a child.

"Oh." She blinked and said, "I think I need to go now." She got up and walked out the door, leaving me to wish she had been a little saner for the possible last time I saw her.

After a couple of minutes of me making my own patterns with the blue and purple pillows, Cecily and Jackie walked through the door ready to talk to me, both wearing their dresses. Cecily's was wearing a bold scarlet dress. It was a bit loud, but that was Cecily for you. Jackie's was a conservative azure dress that matched her eyes. They came to sit with me on the couch, the same awkwardness from earlier lingering in the air.

Cecily finally broke it by saying, "Because you didn't listen to us earlier, I'm scared to say this now, but you have to win." Jackie nodded in agreement. I cracked a smile, not sure she was joking until she smiled herself. We all looked at each other and exploded in laughter. It was not even remotely funny, but we all knew in the back of our minds' that it could be the last time we laughed together.

Eventually the hysterical laughter died down and Jackie said, "You have to win. Don't chicken out because if someone's willing to kill you for their own survival you should be willing to kill them for yours." I stared at her, not used to her outspokenness, but she continued, "You're skilled enough and as long as you make good alliances then you should be able to win."

Cecily joined me in my staring. Jackie held her hands up and said, "What? Am I not allowed to give advice?"

Cecily just shook her head and said, "Never mind. Rea just remember that we're rooting for you." We had a little group hug. Jackie started tearing up a little and I had to tell her that I was still alive and did not have any plans to die. I asked them, "You two will check on my mom right?" I had only recently opened up to them about my mother's craziness and they were really supportive about it. They nodded sympathetically then left. After they left, the peacekeepers came in to tell me that I was leaving.

When we got to the platform, there were dozens of camera crews. I found Tonex and took his hand. He winked at me and said under his breath, "Good idea." We smiled our cold smiles to the cameras. I spent hours practicing mine for the interview exam at school, but I am sure Tonex's came naturally. We boarded the train with yells and camera flashes behind us.

As soon as we got on the train, we went to a window and waved. They loved it, and of course they would. We had been instructed at school exactly what to do to get sponsors. I felt rather guilty about it, considering we had an advantage over the non-career districts, but at the same time I wanted to win just as much as them.

As we pulled out of view, I pulled my hand out of Tonex's and we went walking, hoping to stumble upon anyone that could tell us where to go, Tonex following at my heels. We walked into the main cart, seeing the tables on the side piled with rich delicacies.

The table in the center of the cart had nothing on it but placeholders with names on them. There was a beautiful chandelier above the main table. Long chains of sapphire jewels looped around the lights multiple times until you could not see what held the lights in place. Among the dark blue jewels were tiny glass sea creatures; a green turtle caught my eye, its eyes twinkling with wisdom. The walls of the room were a deep purple, reminding me of the old sea stories of hidden caves that cast gloomy light not frightening enough to scare any curious person, but foreboding all the same. The tablecloths were a deep green, each of their folds brought to my mind hidden seaweed that littered the ocean floor. The entire effect reminded me of the pictures of deep-sea we had goggled over at school.

While admiring the decor, I noticed our mentors were nowhere in sight. Tonex was inspecting the corner of the room, which was to the right of the door we walked through. Going to him, I asked, "What are you doing?"

He replied, troubled, "Well there appears to be a door here, but I can't seem to pry it open."

"What door?" I saw nothing but a dark purple wall. He gestured for me to come closer.

When I got right next to the 'door', Tonex put my hand along the wall. I felt the wall and barely felt a crack where a door could be opened. I asked him, in awe, "How on earth did you see this?"

He said abashed, "I've got pretty good eyesight; it's sort of freaky. It helped me win the Volunteer Trials."

"If by pretty good you mean amazing, then yeah you've got pretty good eyesight." The door was impossible to see; I knew where to look and still could not find it.

Trying to change the subject he said, "Well anyways, can you help me open it?"

"Sure. Did you try pushing it?"

"No, but do you really think a secret door can open by being pushed?" He asked, dubiously.

Answering, I pushed on the door. It opened wide, showing a narrow hallway with lights lining the walls. I stuck my tongue out at him and he just rolled his eyes. I was finding Tonex not as he appeared at all, but that is what I expected. The Hunger Games is all just a big _game_, the sooner you realize that the better your chances of winning. I was curious to find out Tonex's real personality almost as much as I was curious about this secret hallway.

We walked, completely silent, through the hall. We passed multiple doors, all of which I tried opening (as did Tonex, after me). Finally, the hall came to a turn. Cautious, we knocked on the door it led us to. It was steel and looked secure. After no answer, I knocked again, hoping for a different response than silence.

The door was pulled slightly in. I saw darkness mixed with the harsh light of computer screens. As it was pulled open all the way, I got a glimpse of some of the screens. Some of which showed our faces, others showed the faces of (I assume) the other tributes. One of them was super high-tech and 3-d. I saw a landscape of trees and ponds, and diagrams of ticks and minnows. When Tonex and I stepped through the door, we were pulled to the side of the room by a strong hand.

We were shoved into a corner, and the proximity of Tonex startled me. A giant figure blocked our view of the computer screens. A gruff voice emanated from the shadowy silhouette, "What are you doing here?"

I decided to let Tonex answer. Arrogantly Tonex said, "Who wants to know?" That was not the right thing to say.

"I am Dellam Tregun, also known as the head game-maker that decides just _exactly_ how to kill you. Now I asked a question, and it is to be answered or your life, or what is left of it, will become a living h*ll. Do you understand?"

Afraid of what Tonex would say, I responded, "Yes sir. I am sorry my fellow tribute does not know an authority figure when he sees one. We were just curious about where the hallway led. We didn't mean to disturb you. Please don't kill us." Because when all else fails, a plea for your life is always a good thing to throw in.

Dellam looked at Tonex and said, "You better thank your partner; she just saved your life." Switching the conversation to include all of us he said, "Now did you see any of what was on that screen. And if you lie to me I _will_ punish you."

In this situation, punishment seemed worse than death, and I could not vouch for Tonex, but I did not want to die, so I said, "Yes sir. I am sorry. I did not know that we were not supposed to. I saw the tribute faces, the woods, and the ticks and minnows."

Nodding he asked, "Do you know what any of that means?"

"Well, I think the tribute faces were just our information. The woods were probably the diagram of the arena, and the ticks and minnows were mutts?" I said that last part as a question.

He sighed and said, "You're too smart for your own good. If you tell anyone, and I am talking to both of you, about the ticks and minnows your heads are mine." We nodded vigorously, frightened.

Dellam smiled, turned to me, and "Rea you interest me very much, and you seem to know where to place your respect and fear. I'm going to offer you a once in a lifetime deal; if you manage to make the Games interesting this year I will grant you one favor while in the arena. All you have to do is write my initials 'D.T' on whatever you need help with. You are a smart girl; I am sure you will figure out what to write with. Do you accept the deal?"

**I don't really like Tonex. He's an idiot so far. :/ And I didn't really like any of the dialogue in this chapter. Too boxy. **

**Here are the questions that I'd like you to answer, but if you don't want to answer them then a review saying you liked the chapter is fine.**

**How was the sentence structure/grammar usage? What should I do to fix it?**

**Were the characters' interactions with one another believable? How do I make them better?**

**Do you like the general writing style? What, if anything, should I change to make this read easier?**

**How was the comma use?**

**Was this chapter better/easier to read then the other? **

**If you left a review about the previous chapter did I do a good job fixing it?**

**Please, if you have any other advice, I am open to critism. Thanks, for reading. **


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